Catching Cold

No, I'm not coming down with anything. Rather, the title refers to my momentary lapse of sanity that made me want to take a bicycle ride last week, days after an arctic blast reached my neck of the woods. It was 30 degrees that morning – not exactly frigid anymore – but it felt colder because of the wind chill I generated by my momentum.

There was still some scattered ice on the roads, where the shadows of trees had thwarted the melting powers of the sun. I wore a couple of layers, most notably a pullover face-mask thingee made out of some modern space-age material. It would keep the wind directly of my nose, mouth and ears – and fit nicely beneath my helmet. For anyone who wears glasses, or even just sunglasses, in such conditions – you know there's a fog problem. Especially if your face-mask thingee deflects your warm breath over your eyes.

Wasn't a problem if I was going at a good clip; the breeze I created was enough to defog my glasses. However, when I started huffing up a rather steep hill, I wasn't moving nearly as quickly but was breathing harder. So I decided to take off my glasses, which by blurring the passing landscape gave me a different kind of light-headed exhileration. Good thing I was riding in familiar territory ... the street signs looked like wordless, rectangular green blobs. I wish Santa was also a laser eye surgeon.

On that steep hill that prompted my spectacle-ditching (into my handy under-the-seat baglet), I was dealt another blow. Some old dude on a beater-bike cruised past me with nary a whimper. He was also wearing shorts and a tank top (OK, not really; but he wasn't wearing a hat or jacket). Nothing like a shaming like that to make me want to ride more often so as to blow away younglings puffing up similar hills in the future.

Besides getting back into shape, which of course is a constant battle that knows no end, I also realized my bike is way-past a tuneup. Hitting the brakes with a hammer, or spraying the entire gear assembly with WD-40, are kind of like using emergency Velveeta® during brain surgery. I should also retire the use of my knobby tires on the road. They provide too much rolling-resistance (like my body doesn't provide enough of that) and there are some better road tires that are not being entirely grandma-bike wimpy.

I am also hoping to get a bike attachment that will link to my car's factory rack. Maybe if I can more easily transport the thing, I'll be more apt to use it (in new and exciting places, no less). I certainly hope so. I'm at a point where appearances don't mean as much, so beefing up my Subaru's looks just to get a pound of "trail cred" isn't important. Function's the thing. On that note, why do so many people turn on their fog lights when there's no fog within thousands of miles? Is it cool to burn those lights unnecessarily? I can't say it works; I've seen minivans with add-on flamethrower lights that, at the end of the drive, are still minivans.

After my bike is professionally tuned up, I've got faster tires on it, I've beaten myself into bike shape and I figure out the whole foggy glasses thing, I'm sure I'll be ready for the upcoming Iditabike, which follows the path of the famous Alaskan dog-sled race. Or at least geezers will have to strain themselves to keep up with me around the neighborhood!